The Most Dangerous Game 2
by PinkPoppy15
Summary: What happened to Rainsford after the end of The Most Dangerous Game? The game is won and his foes have been defeated, but the crisis is not over yet. Alone on an island surrounded by a wild jungle, Rainsford must find a way to deal with his conflicting emotions and return home before he is left for dead.


**Author's Note:**

**Hello, everybody, its PinkPoppy15 here! This is my first fanfiction and it was written as a school assignment so I'm sorry if it's bad or needs improvements. Anyway, let us get to the story, peeps!**

The Most Dangerous Game 2

Previously…

_The General sucked in his breath and smiled. "I congratulate you," he said. "You have won the game."_

_Rainsford did not smile. "I am still a beast at bay," he said, in a low, hoarse voice. "Get ready, General Zaroff._

_The general made one of his deepest bows. "I see," he said. "Splendid! One of us is to furnish a repast for the hounds. The other will sleep in this very excellent bed. On Guard, Rainsford…"_

_He had never slept in a better bed, Rainsford decided._

Currently…

Rainsford awoke to the sun streaming in through the curtains of the magnificent bedroom. At first he wondered why he was not lying in his own bed, the New York City ambience in the background, but then the memories came rushing back. Yes, that's right, he had been shipwrecked on this God forsaken island, forced to flee as the hunter became the hunted. _"Who cares how the jaguar feels_!" he had said not three days ago, sailing to the Amazon in hope of good hunting.

"You're eating your words now, aren't you?" Rainsford muttered to himself, pushing off the covers and getting out of the comfortable bed. Still sore from the past few days, he stretched briefly to loosen his aching muscles and walked over to the large window opposite the door. Brushing the curtains aside, Rainsford gazed down upon the courtyard, where the dogs paced and the occasional growl could be heard.

Rainsford shook his head. "Mangy brutes," he grumbled, remembering the way they had ruthlessly chased him down under the command of General Zaroff. "Once I get off this rock, I'll have your hides for coats and caps."

As he turned away from the window, Rainsford felt his toes brush against a small object on the floor. His hunting knife. He must have forgotten to pick it up after his duel with the cruel general, who had knocked the weapon out of his hands. It was a lucky thing he was able to snag the small pistol from old General Zaroff, or he would have been a goner. Rainsford shivered at the memory. He could still feel his fingers pulling the cold metal trigger, gun aimed for the general's head. It was something he never wanted to experience again.

But the dogs had gotten quite a feast afterwards.

Leaving the hunting knife lying on the bedroom floor, Rainsford left the room in search of something to eat. A good hunter needed his strength.

Soon he came across the dining hall where he had eaten a fine meal shortly after washing up on the island. From there Rainsford managed to trace his way to the kitchen and was astonished by what he found. Every cupboard, shelf, and refrigerator was stocked with fine edibles, from expensive tarts and cakes to rare champagne.

"_The man ate like this_ _every day?"_ thought Rainsford, envious of the dead general's wealth. "_No wonder he seemed so jolly when I first met him." _

As he took a seat in the dining hall and began to eat his food, Rainsford wondered what he could possibly do next. He had an island all to himself now, for God's sake! Rainsford bit into a particularly sour tart and pondered the question. First, he would somehow have to find a way off the island and back to civilization. Then maybe he could sell the place. But who would buy this rock? No one in their right mind would want "Ship Trap Island," where many a vessel has disappeared, and from which no one has ever returned. But Rainsford simply could not keep the island for himself, knowing the cruel, barbaric events that had occurred on her shores.

Rainsford decided to push those thoughts aside and focus on the current problem; finding a way back home. He sipped some of the strong wine to wash down his meal, stood up, and left the room.

"_General Zaroff must have gotten here somehow," _Rainsford thought, leaving the mansion and walking across the courtyard towards the docks_. "There has got to be a boat docked nearby." _

Sure enough, there was an elegant looking yacht tied to the end of the dock.

"This is why reasoning gives us humans the advantage in the animal kingdom." Rainsford grinned. "It makes us smarter."

Rainsford climbed aboard the vessel into the helm and tried to start the engine. When nothing happened, Rainsford noticed the yacht was out of fuel.

"Just my luck!" he groaned. He most likely would not get any more fuel until General Zaroff's supply ship returned, but that might not be for weeks, or even months. He could not wait that long. No doubt Whitney had noticed his disappearance from their boat, and search parties must have been sent out. But none would dare go near this death trap, so Rainsford needed to intercept the rescuers before they gave up and left him for dead. _"They might be gone already," _Rainsford thought fearfully.

Leaving the useless yacht behind him, Rainsford made his way back to the grand mansion and slumped down onto a plush sofa in the great hall, his head in his hands.

Suddenly there was a hard knocking coming from within the walls of the building. Startled, Rainsford jumped and looked around for the source of the noise, but did not see anything out of the ordinary. The knock sounded again, followed by a husky voice.

"Zaroff!" It was a man's voice, heavy with a thick Spanish accent. "General, where are you? It's well past sunrise, and my men are hungry. Where are you?"

It was coming from the next room. Rainsford stood up and walked through the doorway, but seeing nothing, asked, "Who is speaking? Where are you?"

"My name is Santiago Balli," the man replied. "I am the captain of the Spanish bark _San Lucar. _Who are you? Where is General Zaroff?"

Rainsford put his hand to his forehead as the memory returned to him. The general's training camp! He had told Rainsford himself about the program he had created and the Spanish ship that had wrecked on his island recently. How on Earth could he have forgotten such an important detail? Rainsford remembered that the people were kept in the cellar, which must through the door on the other end of the room, where the voice originated.

"Wait a moment, I'm coming." Rainsford said. The door was bolted from the outside, and Rainsford quickly unlocked it and the door swung open, revealing a lanky, dark haired man with his arms crossed.

"I ask again, who are you?" Balli questioned.

"My name is Sanger Rainsford. I washed ashore a few days ago. How long have you been trapped here?"

"My men and I have been here for over two weeks now." Balli explained, stepping out of the cellar. "None of them speak any English, I'm afraid. Only about half of us remain; the rest were stolen by the general for his 'game.' Am I to assume you know of this game?"

"Yes," Rainsford replied. "I was forced to play almost four days ago."

"And you survived?" Balli exclaimed, gasping in awe. "You escaped? But how? Where is Zaroff?"

Rainsford frowned. "Zaroff is dead. I'm ashamed to admit I did it."

"Ashamed? He was a monster, a murderer! You are a hero."

However, Rainsford did not feel like a hero. He believed he had stooped as low as the general in the act of murdering him. But was killing animals really any different from when he had killed a man? Just the thought of holding a gun again, even while hunting an animal, was enough to send a shiver down his spine. This scared Rainsford, because for the first time, he began to doubt the righteousness of the career he had dedicated his life to.

Changing the subject, Rainsford feigned a smile and said, "Mr. Balli, inform your crew that they are free, and then we can eat in the dining hall."

Balli shouted something is Spanish, and soon a dozen or so men filed out of the cellar, grinning and saying cheerful things Rainsford did not understand, as he did not speak Spanish.

After eating their meal and finishing up pleasant conversations, Rainsford and Balli left to speak privately in the courtyard.

"So, this island belongs to you now?" asked Balli. "The mansion, the jungle, it's all yours?"

One of the dogs growled and tugged at the chain linking it to the iron fence. Rainsford sucked in his breath and nodded. "Yes. But...I'm not sure what to do with it. I don't want it."

"Why ever not?" Balli argued. "You will become a rich man. You must be crazy not to want that!"

One of the dogs growled and tugged at the chain linking it to the iron fence. "It's just that there are some…bad memories here." Rainsford explained. "I'm hoping if I leave the island behind, the memories will stay with it."

Balli looked at Rainsford sympathetically. "It does not work that way, my friend. You know that."

Rainsford was silent. He knew he would be forever haunted by his dreadful experience on the island, but he hoped leaving the evidence behind would give him a chance to forget, and everything would go back to the way it was before. He didn't think he could hunt ever again, not when every shot fired sounded just like the one used to kill Zaroff. Rainsford winced at the thought of never hunting again, and leaving his life behind.

Rainsford opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly Balli pointed to the sea and cried, "Look! Look! Do you see it?"

Rainsford rushed to the edge of the cliff the mansion rested on, and was astonished by what he saw.

"A ship!" He exclaimed, eyeing the vessel skimming through the sea. "It's headed straight for us. Hurry, we must meet it when it arrives."

Rainsford and Balli rushed down to the dock and made it just as the boat pulled in to the dock. The ship was nothing fancy; simply an old fashioned cargo vessel with the rusty brown paint peeling off the sides. A middle aged man in the helm shut off the engines and stepped off of the boat.

"Afternoon," He greeted, tipping his hat and revealing scraggly gray hair. "Name's Carl. Where is the General Zaroff? I've got the stuff he wanted."

Rainsford smiled. This must be the supply ship. "You won't find Zaroff here," he said. "This island is…under new management."

Jones frowned and looked confused. "But I don't understand," he said. "He told me-"

"Yes, well, whatever he told you, you can unload whatever cargo you have, and then we can talk." Rainsford interrupted.

As the man unloaded crates of food, wine, tools, and other necessities, Rainsford turned to speak to Balli.

"I told you I don't want this island," Rainsford said. "We will sail back with Carl once he is ready. Then you and your crew can return to wherever you live."

Balli gave Rainsford a sheepish look. "Oh, uh, actually, I was wondering…since you obviously hate his place and don't want it…maybe I could stay and…"

"And keep the island!" Rainsford finished, delighted. "Why didn't I think of this? I'm giving this island to you, Balli. Do with it what you will."

Balli's face lit up with happiness. "Really? Oh thank you!"

Rainsford grinned and turned to Carl, who was nearly finished unloading. "Hey! My friend here now owns the island. You work for him now. Are you quite finished? I need a ride home."

After all the cargo had been unloaded, Carl promised to return to Balli in less than a month and boarded his vessel, followed closely by Rainsford.

"Good luck to you and wherever you go, Rainsford!" shouted Balli.

"And to you." Rainsford replied.

The olds cargo boat left the dock and headed out to sea, until the stars began to appear and the island was out of sight. Rainsford stood on the deck leaning against the rail, thinking about all he had been through. He had fallen off a ship, washed up on an island, been hunted, fought in a duel, killed a man, acquired his own island, made a friend, given up the island, and was sailing away with a man he barely knew. The hunting trips he had taken and the adventures he'd been on, they all paled in comparison to this. This was the adventure of a lifetime.

But there was still one dilemma. Rainsford's views on hunting had been so drastically changed that if he returned to his old life as a hunter, it would never be the same. He would not be able to give it all his effort, not with the conflicting emotions broiling inside him. And if he could not give it his all, Rainsford decided, he'd rather not give it anything. When the ship finally reached land, he would leave the sport of hunting and start over, making a new life for himself. What he would do, Rainsford had no idea. But even though he was not the hunter anymore, that did not mean he became the hunted. He was a man, a man who could reason and think for himself. He would figure something out. He always did.

THE END

**Authors Note:**

**So…Thanks for reading, and what did you all think? Let me know in your reviews, please. I don't mind criticism, but don't be too harsh. **_**I have feelings.**_

** Also, I'm working on a Star Wars fic right now and I'm not sure when I'll be done because of school and whatnot, but keep an eye out for it! Anyway, thanks for reading and may the odds be ever in your favor. (Yeah, I like the Hunger Games)**


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